


the dog days are done

by Pomfry



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Depression, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Time Travel, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: He knows what his younger self will see. His younger self looks him in the eyes - and he's gottenso tallbut he looks so brittle, like he's one more hit away from breaking - and he doesn't see the man Dick believes he'll grow up to be. He doesn't see the man Damian hopes he will be. He sees man who'stired.He sees a man who keeps on getting his loved ones taken away and away andaway-Until he can't handle it anymore.





	the dog days are done

**Author's Note:**

> (I love Florence and the machine, shut up and let me have my titles)
> 
> This is born from staying up _far_ too late, talking on the discord group chat, and deciding that angst is a thing that needs to happen.
> 
> I regret staying up till seven.
> 
> But!
> 
> This is sorta a jondami, tragic twist on the upcoming story line in super sons with my own theory as to why Damian comes back to kill Jon.
> 
> Whoopee!
> 
> Mind the tags, please.

He knows what his younger self will see. His younger self looks him in the eyes - and he's gotten _so tall_ but he looks so brittle, like he's one more hit away from breaking - and he doesn't see the man Dick believes he'll grow up to be. He doesn't see the man Damian hopes he will be. He sees man who's _tired._ He sees a man who keeps on getting his loved ones taken away and away and a _way-_  
  
Until he can't handle it anymore.

Until he thinks the only way he can save them - and not him, _never_ him, because what good is he but as a weapon, a shield, a means to protect - is to go back, to go back when everyone was innocent and alive and _fine,_ when Jon was ten and happy, when his best friend was -  
  
When his best friend wasn't a killer. When his best friend wasn't cold, wasn't all red glares and bloody knuckles.  
  
But he can't leave him alive. He _can't,_ he just _can't,_ he _can't lose them again, he can't-_

He stands in front of Superboy, his cape brushing against his heels, and his past self is throwing his arms out, screaming at him, shouting _no, you can't do this, you can't-_

(There are a lot of things he can't do. This isn't one of them.)  
  
He steps past him quietly, and Jon stares up at him, blue eyes wide and fearful, and he feels -  
  
He feels regret. _I'm sorry,_ he wants to say. _I'm sorry I let you become what you are,_ he wants to say.  
  
The words never come across his tongue.

"Damian," Jon says, voice barely above a whisper, and he jerks.  
  
He hasn't been called Damian in forever. Hasn't heard the name be twisted around a tongue, hasn't heard it be spoken with such trust, such disbelief, and he -  
  
It's been forever since Jon called him Damian.  
  
"What's going on," Jon says, still ten years old and with flyaway hair, and he - Damian, that's his name, he almost forgot it - smiles. It's a broken thing, one that's taped together with the memories of happier times, and Jon flinches, the way his future self never would.  
  
Damian could reach out and break Jon's neck right now. He has a Kryptonite ring hidden under his gloves, lined in lead. He could reach out and hit him hard enough that his head snaps to the side hard enough that it makes a sickening crack.  
  
It'll be quick, easy.  
  
Damian reaches out, his hand brushing against his cheek before settling on his neck.  
  
The past shouldn't pay for the future's mistakes.

"Damian," Jon says again, and Damian can feel his pulse beating rabbit fast beneath his fingers. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm. I'm protecting you," Damian says, his voice scratchy and weak with disuse, and Jon blinks.  
  
"What," he asks, and Damian shakes his head.  
  
Jon can't know what the alien did to him. Can't know that they infected his mind, made him turn from himself into a world destroyer, that their first kiss was harsh and Jon broke his ribs that day.  
  
Jon can't know that.  
  
Damian takes Jon's neck in hand, butterfly heartbeat fluttering, and Jon stares into Damian's eyes, fearless and frightened, and so, so confused.  
  
Damian takes a deep breath, and his younger self barrels into his side, shrieking,"No! You can't - you can't break his neck! You _can't!"_

"I _have to,"_ Damian coughs, and his heart is aching as Jon stares at him betrayal, as his younger self tugs Jon behind him, katana in his hands and breathing harsh. "He'll-"  
  
_"I don't care,"_ his younger self shouts, and Damian -  
  
Damian just can't. He's been fighting Jon since he was eighteen, since he woke up with Gotham in flames, and he's _so close._  
  
He's so close.  
  
Damian rises to his feet, legs weak beneath him because Jon broke his legs two years ago and they never quite healed right, not with Damian having to stay on the move, having to run with his heart in his throat, and he just wants to rest. He's so _tired._  
  
If he does this, he'll be gone. Erased from existence. It's a relief, because then he'll get to _rest._  
  
"I'm going to," Damian says,  
his voice low, and he can see the way Jon stiffens. It's the voice Damian uses when he has to fight, has to bargain himself to protect what little humans remained, because Jon always, _always_ wants Damian. "Because I need to. I can't lose my life again."  
  
"This isn't your life," Damian's younger self screams, and Damian laughs at him, because once upon a time it was.  
  
It was, and Damian wants it for his younger self, wants his life to be happy instead of terrifying, content instead of shattering.  
  
Damian takes a step forward, his lips still bruised from Jon's last kiss, his viscous reminder that Damian belonged to him as Damian's beloved bled out beside them.  
  
Jon won't hurt anyone again.  
  
Not  _ever._

 

\--

 

Damian can hear Jon's gasps for air behind him, can feel the way he hides his face in Damian's back as Damian's future self steps forward, feet falling heavy on the ground and limp barely noticeable.  
  
"I have to," his future self says, voice a growl, and Damian takes a step back.  
  
"No, you don't," Damian shouts, and his future self gives him a smile as he rubs a hand against his cheek, against a bruise that looks like a hand.  
  
His eyes are shadowed with grief.  
  
"Jon kills everyone," his future self says, and he's becoming harder, more terrible and distant, and his anger is a white hot flame that Damian can feel in his chest. "He didn't care for casualties. I'm-" he shivers, and his smile falls flat. "I'm the only reason that there's humans."  
  
And that's what Damian's been seeing but couldn't identity. That look in his eyes isn't just grief, isn't just sadness and misery and death.  
  
It's the look of those who escaped abusive homes, relationships, the look of people who's lost all hope and just going without an objective and drifts.  
  
"I can't let him do it again," Damian's future self says, tears starting to fill his eyes as his lips - bruised and bloody, and Damian refuses to think of why, refuses to think of the fact that the reason they're like that is because of Jon - tremble.  
  
Jon gasps against his neck, and Damian reaches back and hold his best friend's hand.  
  
_I'm the only reason there's humans, his_  future self had said with bruised lips.  
  
Damian doesn't want to know what he meant.

 

\--

 

His past self - Robin, Damian calls him, the name of the happier days - holds Jon's hand, and Damian tries not to remember what it was like to do it when they were young and foolish, when Damian dragged Jon out for adventures and missions.  
  
Tries not to remember the last time that happened, an hour before the alien had gurgled and Jon disappeared forever.  
  
Damian taps his foot and vanishes.  
  
He's had to get good at hiding from Supers, at staying out of harm's way and striking when they least expect it, and right now is no different.  
  
He lands silently behind Jon, beside the sobbing ten year old version of the man who looks him in the eyes and smiles as he locks one of Damian's scouts inside an air proof container, _knowing_ that Damian would do anything to keep them alive, and doesn't hesitate to grab him, ready for the snap that will echo in the air and stay on his hands even as he turns into light.  
  
One, two, thr-  
  
Clark slams into him, and Damian starts to laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.  
  
He can't stop. It's rasping little giggles that make him want to scream, and Damian covers his ears.  
  
Jon's laugh was still like it was. Sweet and innocent and Damian _hates it._  
  
So Damian laughs the way Jon won't. Brokenly and insane, and Damian doesn't laugh deep belly laughs anymore.  
  
There's nothing to laugh about, except for now, and Damian can't stop, tears slipping down his cheeks, because he just wants to _sleep._ He just wants to sleep for eternity, but he's the leader.  
  
Jon had trained it into him to sleep with one eye open.  
  
Nothing is restful, nothing is okay, and Damian can't stop laughing.

"You're trying to kill my son," Clark roars at him, and Damian giggles in his face.  
  
He doesn't try to explain. It seems like nobody will understand, but he'll show them.  
  
He'll show them, and it makes him feel hollow even as he fades away again, grabbing Jon and this time he doesn't even count, doesn't even stop to look.  
  
His hands find Jon's face and twists, the crack echoing, and Damian's younger self _screams._  
  
Damian can already feel himself becoming undone.  
  
It hurts more than he thought it would, but he's learned to deal with pain, and as he gazes as his crying counterpart, he has to wonder if he did the right thing, even as he's bleeding from the mouth.  
  
He has to believe he did, but bile rises anyway, makes his throat burn even as his arms unravel into golden ribbons of time, and for the first time in years, Damian feels something other than terror or despair.  
  
Remorse.  
  
Then he's gone, leaving only a corpse and a grieving boy as the only evidence of his existence.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and brighten up my day and are saved in my Gmail.
> 
> Also! Here's my [Tumblr.](http://nikescaret.tumblr.com) Come visit and chat with me if you want!


End file.
